


two birds in flight

by olivestark



Series: Imo's summer ficathon [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Use, M/M, Rave, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivestark/pseuds/olivestark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pining!Montparnasse and Jehan come across each other at a rave</p>
            </blockquote>





	two birds in flight

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is my second fic in two days, I'm trying to do a lot for the ficathon before I go on holiday. I have two more coming up and hopefully two more chapters of the coffee shop au, all will be up before Saturday.

“Man, I can’t fucking wait for this. I can’t believe ‘Ponine managed to get us tickets.” Bahorel was skipping ahead of them, a roll up between his lips.

Jehan smirked. “Yeah, but she had to blow some creep in an alleyway most likely.”

“I’ve done that before.” said Grantaire next to him. Bahorel and Jehan gave him a look. “So it’s fine when Eponine does it, but not when I do? It was for blink-182 tickets.”

“Understandable.” Bahorel shrugged. “Where is Eponine? I thought she was coming.”

“She supposed to meet us there with Courf, I think.” Grantaire took a swig from his bottle. “But she wouldn’t answer my texts this morning, so I don’t know.”

“Tickets, please.” A man with a squashed face and leather jacket was stood in front of an old lift. He hand the tickets back and pulled open the grills. “Come on, we haven’t got all night.”

As the lift got higher, the music got louder and the bass hit deeper.

“Here, take this.” Grantaire handed out some pills and his bottle. As the lift got to the top, Jehan swallowed it down. The lights blared and the music thumped, flailing arms lit up with glow sticks attacked the smoke ruthlessly.

“COME ON!” Bahorel shouted over the music and clapped him on the back. They ran into the crowd.

He squeezed his way in between everyone, receiving hits in the face from people who were off their faces on drugs or alcohol or both. The music seemed to make his limbs ache. He darted his head around, he thought Grantaire had been behind him? He looked around and he was nowhere to be seen.

He started pushing through the dense crowd of high kids with legs like jelly and a smile plastered on their face. The colours seemed to get brighter; it made him squint and covered his eyes. He gritted his teeth and opened them again. The people seemed more… beautiful. He threw his arms to the ceiling and screamed, letting the smoke take over his body. He was floating, he stretched and he started flying in time to the beat of the music. He flew everywhere, even with the obstacles in his way, he destroyed them with his power, he flew so far he could touch the sky. The lights were brighter up there, the thumping more comforting, he _was_ the music. He felt it, it made him cry, it made him smile, it made him laugh, a laugh that came from his heart and escaped into the never ending sky. He was invincible. He writhed and swayed in the colourful sky. Greens, blues, reds, purples, yellows. They filled him up with joy and made him feel like he was going to explode. The flashing lights permeated his eyelids and took him over. He danced, he flew, he jumped, he was infinite. His soul reached towards the light and never let it go.

He wasn’t alone anymore. Someone came up beside him, took his hips, and flew with him. Two birds in flight, grinding hard on each other, slipping tongues and messy words. Hands reaching to unspeakable places and nobody minded or seemed to notice. The two were vultures, and they were hungry. Lips found and lost each other over and over, not really concentrating but beautiful all the same. Sweat mixed in with their euphoria and they shared their dreams wordlessly.

In that moment, they spent their whole lives dancing for joy with each other.

 

* * *

 

 

The pounding continued in his dream. He was flying again. He looked below and there was a field of flowers and loose papers with scribbles of pretty words that made him blush. He saw children playing in the field and their laughter made him warm. He felt a hand slip into his own, he looked for the owner, but their face was shadowed. The stranger said something, but no sound came out. Jehan frowned. The hand was gone. The shadowed stranger was gone. He started to fall, towards the ground, it was coming towards him so fast, he tried to relax and float but it didn’t work. The children were angry at him, shouting, but he couldn’t hear them. He scrunched up his face and prepared for impact-

“JEAN!” He bolted his head up, his manager red in the face and forehead wrinkled. He leant up on the desk and stretched, only to see several preteen girls staring back at him, unimpressed.

“What is _WRONG_ with you today? First you’re late and now you’re sleeping on the job? See to these poor girls before I _FIRE_ you.” His manager stormed off, ponytail swinging. He yawned as the girls put their clothes on the counter.

“Would you like a bag?” He said, lazily. A girl with a pouty mouth and piercing eyes nodded her head.

As they walked off, he heard them muttering things about how _long_ they had to wait and how he wasn’t even ‘fit’.

He looked around; the store was pretty empty today, as it usually was on a Sunday. _It’s funny_ , he thought, _a thrift shop doesn’t normally attract 11 year olds._

He had had so many cups of coffee this morning to try and keep him awake, but he was exhausted. He’d gotten back at 6am last night, and hadn’t arrived at work until 10am. He was lucky to still have this job, but his strict and bad tempered manger seemed to favour him, but probably not for long. He couldn’t remember much of last night, except bright lights and thumping music. It was a while until he had found Bahorel and Grantaire, an unknown girl painted with luminous patterns all over her body clinging to Bahorel’s arm. Their loud sex hadn’t exactly helped Jehan sleep.

He perked up when a customer walked in, tall, dark and handsome with a cigarette in his mouth. Jehan tried to find his voice to tell him to put it out, but he was just so _hot._ Especially with that lolling lazily between his teeth. He remembered the wrath of his manager and spoke up.

“Um, excuse me, we have a no smoking policy.” The guy looked up. God, his eyes were gorgeous, it made him melt. The stranger made his way over.

“Sorry?” He had a smirk that made Jehan blush furiously. He bit his lip.

“You’re not allowed that in here, sorry.”

The guy took it out and put it out on the counter, Jehan saw no point in trying to say that’s not necessarily allowed either.

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Jehan’s head shot up. “I- I don’t recognize you…”

“I know! Were you at a rave last night?”

Jehan panicked. What did he do last night? Did he start a fight? Shit, shit, shit.

“Um… er … no…”

The strangers face fell. “Sorry, I just… I danced with someone last night… I- I thought it was you.”

His memory was cloudy, he couldn’t remember a thing. He felt guilty for the guy. Maybe he could pretend to be… no no, that would be cruel.

“Sorry, hope you, um, find… him…” The guy smirked again.

“That’s cute.” He peered at him. “No, it’s definitely you.” He grabbed Jehan’s arm. “Look! You have a glow stick bracelet on, and a bird tattoo! I remember the guy had a small bird tattooed on his wrist. It was you!”

It was?

“I just wanted to say I had a great time last night, you’re even hotter in this light.”

Jehan didn’t know what to do. _He danced with this extremely gorgeous guy?_

“Man, I felt on top of the world with you, do you remember?”

Jehan was a deep shade of beetroot. “Um… I’m sorry… I don’t remember a lot of last night…” What if this guy was just using him? Just trying to get him to fuck him.

“Well we danced a lot, it was dirty. Infact it was filthy. I fucking loved it. We’ll have to get together sometime.”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I was off my face on drugs last night. I don’t even know if you’re telling the truth.”

The guy looked sad. “Ok… sorry mate, I, I’ll be off… my name’s Montparnasse by the way.”

Jehan wanted to tell him his name, he wanted him to stay, he wanted him to take him bent over this very counter. But he stood his ground.

He guy left the shop without buying anything.

Jehan ran after him. “Ok, fine, here’s my number. Call me for coffee or something ok?”

Montparnasse beamed. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Jehan. Jean Prouvaire.”

That night Jehan got what he wanted, and it was Bahorel who couldn’t sleep because of their loud sex.


End file.
